by Tony Roberts
The empress was not enjoying the uproar. She much preferred a civilised talk. However, Astiras was hosting the session therefore it was his decision as to when to bring the shouting to a halt. She looked to her left. Three places down was Vosgaris. He was here representing the House of Taboz, because his father was trapped over in Venn. Since the war had resumed, Venn had closed all borders and all merchants in Venn territory could not leave. In fact no word had come and one could only assume he was now a prisoner. Vosgaris was clearly worried but had to do his duty. He’d written to Astiras for permission to travel, given the earlier warning from the emperor, and he’d been given a complete and full pardon.
Isbel had been especially delighted, and her correspondence with the Commander of Bathenia – as he was being described now – had shown he was actually enjoying his duty in Niake. He still exchanged coded letters with the empress, and had expressed his regrets at what had transpired, but he understood the situation and would remain her loyal subject. Isbel noticed he had not mentioned the emperor at all. Vosgaris was still furious at his treatment, clearly, no matter that Astiras had been drugged.
He had admitted to her that being posted to Niake had been the best thing for him for a long time. The ghost of Alenna haunted him still, and Zofela only served to reinforce it. Hence he was reluctant to attend the Council session, but duty was duty and Vosgaris was dutiful, if nothing else.
Now he sat there silently, waiting for order to be restored. One of the other nobles, Grasim Klimets, leaned over the table and addressed him. “And what of the Taboz? Will you honour your father’s promises to stand by our side in this matter?”
“What matter?” Vosgaris said heavily. Dealing with Governor Extonos was one thing; the man was an idiot and could easily be threatened into compliance. These people were another matter altogether. “I am not aware of any standing agreement. Father is trapped in Kral, or Riliyan, and I do not know when I’ll see him again.”
“You will vote in our favour on any issue here that we support. It was agreed.”
“Not by me, Lord Klimets.”
“You have an obligation to uphold the wishes of your father.”
“Not if it goes against my instincts. I represent the House of Taboz and I declare that any past agreements are null and void. You will have to deal with me, unless of course you can contact my father.”
“Damn you, you turncoat! Don’t expect to get any favours from us!”
“The thought pleases me greatly, Klimets.”
The aged Lord furiously slammed his hand onto the tabletop. “You’re nothing more than a temporary head; once your father gets back I shall make it clear just how disrespectful you are. With any luck you will be disinherited.”
“Not a likely contingency, Klimets. I am the only son.”
“There are other branches – your uncle’s, for example. We could influence the succession. You may well find yourself out of an inheritance.”
Vosgaris shrugged. “Whatever will be will be. I command nine hundred men, all well-trained. How many do you have access to? Twenty? Thirty? Be careful with your insults or I might lay waste to your estates.”
Lord Klimets paled and sat down. Vosgaris remained in his slumped position but gave the older man the benefit of an unfriendly look. “I’m tired of being treated like some child, or disregarded. I have got full imperial confidence,” he flicked a finger at the Koros sat at the end of the table, “to run Bathenia the way I see it should, and it is my men who keep you and your family safe and sound at night. So don’t go talking to me of alliances and agreements. The only agreement I have is with the emperor and empress here, and they are the only ones I will give deference to, certainly not you, or any of these squabbling infants here.”
Isbel caught Vosgaris’ eye and nodded in approval. The Commander put a finger to his forehead in a minor salute, then winked. Isbel kept a straight face but felt a warm glow spread through her. Astiras leaned over to her. “The Commander appears to have forgiven me for his ill-treatment. We can count on his support, yes?”
“Yes, dear,” Isbel said. But only if I say so – he would turn on you in an instant if I asked him to. She looked down the table to where the old Lord Pelgion sat, arguing with a neighbour. “The Pelgion family are firmly ours, as are the Varaz. The Bosua too,” she indicated a swarthy, middle-aged man with dark hair jabbing the top of the table in emphasis. “And thanks to the greedy opportunism of some of the other Houses, we’ve got a few more supporters than we had earlier this year. Your illness appears to have benefitted us.”
Astiras grunted. “Don’t ask me to keep on doing that – I have no wish to be controlled by some magic-wielder.”
“Don’t worry dear, I hated you when you were under her influence. You don’t recall our arguments, but I do, and I don’t want that to happen again.”
Astiras sighed and straightened. He disliked being reminded of something he couldn’t recall. “And of course the Nicate,” he spotted Sannia’s father shaking his head in the face of a passionate outburst by Lord Kanzet, clearly trying to sway the man’s loyalty. “Alright, time to calm things down.”
He sighed and stood up. “Gentlemen, my Lords, can I please have order?”
A few listened and sat down but much of the disputing went on. Astiras slammed his hand down three times on the table. “Enough! You’ve had plenty of opportunity to speak to one another, now it’s time we conducted our Council session in an orderly manner.”
Gradually the hubbub subsided and the delegates slowly sank into their chairs, but there were a lot of displeased people there, judging by their expressions. Isbel was interested to see the body language of some; former friends and allies were now almost sitting with their backs to one another.
Astiras stood. “Lords, fellow nobles, friends. Welcome to the second Council session of the tenth year of my reign. You will know, of course, my eldest son, Jorqel,” he indicated the serious looking prince, “and my wife, the Empress Isbel. Now, please do not be concerned as to my health; I am, as you can see, fully recovered and back to normal. The plot to reduce me to an incapacity has failed, and those responsible have been caught and punished.”
Isbel resisted the urge to look at her husband; there was still at least one involved who had not been caught.
Astiras looked across the faces. “This period of incapacity was well handled by the Empress here, and in any event Prince Jorqel here was ready to step into my shoes, so to speak, should I have been found incurable.” He leaned forward. “So you can imagine my dismay when I learned of the behaviour of some of my esteemed guests here today. Forming hasty alliances against Jorqel and my wife.” He wagged a finger at them. “Shame on you. I thought it was made clear that my successor was secured? This was done, may I remind you, with the full agreement of the Council at the time it was first held after my accession?”
“Sire, not all agreed to this, if you recall,” Lord Kanzet spoke up.
“Ah yes, the unholy alliance of the Fokis, Duras and Kanzet. I remember it well. How did it end? Lord Duras slain as a traitor, you, Lord Kanzet, gave up any claim to the throne.”
“So you keep on reminding me at every opportunity, Koros,” Lord Kanzet snapped. “Be aware that no matter how many of the Houses here agree to whatever you wish, there will always be those who will not accept an unbroken line of Koros emperors.”
“I am aware of that, Kanzet. Any family wishing to gain a stake in becoming emperor will have to marry into our line. The Pelgion and Nicate families have already taken that step, and the Varaz are scheduled to do so when my son Prince Argan is old enough. We need a secure and stable line of succession, one not prone to civil war or strife.”
“In time past we all had an equal chance to have a vote for an emperor,” Lord Anglis objected. “I do not agree to be frozen out like this just because there are not enough children to be sold off at a marriage auction!”
Voices broke out along the table. Astiras rapped his knuckles on the
wooden surface. “Alright, Anglis, calm down. As you know Jorqel here has four children, and Amne two with a third well on the way. In ten years there’ll be plenty to interest even the Anglis.”
“Ten years? That’s too long….” Anglis was cut short by Astiras.
“Are you keen to end my reign before then? What of Jorqel here? You imply that he has no right to take the throne. Speak to him direct.” Astiras sat down and waved Jorqel to stand.
Jorqel did, facing Lord Anglis. “Lord Anglis, are you disputing my right as heir? If so, please put your faith in your martial ability against me. I challenge your claim.” He laid his right hand on the hilt of his sword, almost begging Anglis to take it up. “If you do not challenge it, then be silent and raise this issue no more.”
Lord Anglis paled and leaned back in his chair, suddenly sweating. His allies had not been so friendly in the recent disputes, and he had few friends he could rely on. It would take time to reform alliances. “No, sire, I do not.”
Jorqel relaxed. “Then I can count on your support once I become emperor?”
Lord Anglis looked about the room. Nobody looked as if they were going to jump to his defence. Vosgaris smiled thinly. He didn’t know whether he wanted to support Jorqel or not; his loyalty currently extended only as far as Isbel, and maybe Argan. Astiras he didn’t give a damn about and he certainly wouldn’t support Istan. Amne, well, yes, but she was married to that humourless stone-faced Elas and he felt no attachment to him. Merely being a Koros didn’t automatically buy his loyalty. However, if he disliked some of the Koros, he liked most of the others even less. He’d quite happily run some of the useless lot through, given the chance.
“I trust we never see the spectre of civil war again,” Astiras was saying. “The imperial army is loyal to me, and I wouldn’t wish to unleash it on any of you, but please be advised that I’m quite prepared to should any of you foment treason. We are at war, and therefore wartime conditions exist.”
He prodded the tabletop again. “We need to agree on a united policy against Venn – and possibly Zilcia, although they have not yet made any move, despite their alliance with Venn. Since the destruction of the Venn Kral army, they are not in a position to take offensive action in Bragal, but we do know there are forces in Epros and Cratia. I am building up the imperial army here by adding three companies of spearmen, and come the new year we ought to have enough men to efficiently patrol Bragal and be able to take the initiative. Commander Taboz here,” the emperor indicated Vosgaris, “has been appointed military commander of Bathenia and is building up a strike force there, based in Niake, ready to deal with any incursion there should the Tybar start anything, and we have the Army of the West in Slenna.
“In Kastan City we have the KIMM, a mobile reaction force under Prince Elas, and they will rush to the assistance of any area under attack, or deal with any internal unrest. They are led by an ex-Tybar officer and are trained in their tactics, so anyone opposing them will have a tough fight on their hands.” He eyed the silent twin rows of men who were watching him intently. He was well aware some of them there despised him, and he was comfortable with that. He despised some of them in turn. “So, esteemed Lords, what is it you recommend that imperial policy should be both in the next year, and in the long term?”
The Council looked surprised; up to now the emperor had decided policy and informed the Council as to what was going to happen. Now he was asking them.
Jorqel raised an eyebrow. He leaned towards his father. “Are you setting a new policy of giving these people a say in our affairs? Is that not dangerous?”
Astiras shook his head. He waved at the nobles who were looking at each other, at a loss for words. “We need more support; you saw their reaction when I fell ill. You would have little foundation to be able to drive imperial policy if this continues. I’m merely asking for their advice; I will either take it or ignore it, but they must be made to feel they are involved in the decision making. That way they’ll feel policy is theirs, too. I’m tired of watching my back and hearing about this uprising here and that uprising there. Its saps our vitality.”
“Sire, do I understand you’re passing the policy making decision to the table?” Lord Anglis asked.
“I am – of course if you cannot come to a majority agreement I shall have to decide on policy myself. I wish to hear what you good people have to offer. We are, after all, all Kastanians and it is our empire in danger from our aggressive neighbour.”
The lords put their heads together. Vosgaris stayed out of the discourse. Astiras noted that. “Commander, are you not getting involved? Policy decisions are yours to suggest, too.”
“Sire,” Vosgaris straightened. “I plead conflict of interest. I command nine hundred men and if I were to make policy decisions it could be seen as an imposition by some of my, ah, associates. I defer to imperial policy as an imperial military commander, not make it as the temporary leader of my House.”
Astiras chuckled and turned to Isbel. “There, that’s loyalty. I wish there were more like him here. Thank you, Commander, I shall note your reasons.”
Jorqel looked thoughtfully at the commander, while Isbel smiled with approval. Vosgaris bowed to Jorqel, Astiras, and then Isbel, smiling back at her. Isbel felt a thrill run through her body and silently told herself to remain calm.
Lord Pelgion came walking over to the head of the table. “Sire, surely you cannot be serious when you ask the Council here to make imperial policy; there are too many disparate factions and wishes. Nobody here will be able to secure enough votes to make a majority in anything.”
“Then I shall have to continue making policy, Lord Pelgion, won’t I?” Astiras smiled.
Lord Pelgion thought for a moment, then nodded in sudden understanding. “Ah, yes sire, I see. Very clever.” He bowed and returned to his seat.
Astiras eyed Jorqel. “Important lesson, my son. Appear to give these fools power, yet knowing they are incapable of coming to any united decision, so to progress anything, I must still – regretfully – carry on as before.” He grinned maliciously.
“Father you’re very Kastanian,” Jorqel said. “Your long predecessors would be full of admiration.”
“Wouldn’t they? Remember this lesson well. You have to treat these like a particularly stupid equine. Always nudge it in the right direction and be ready to use the reins or whip, or even a tasty fruit, as the situation may demand.”
“I will bear that in mind,” Jorqel said and waited for the animated discussions to abate, which after what seemed a long, long time, they did.
It was an exasperated Lord Kanzet who took the floor. He waved angrily at Astiras. “You manipulated this, Koros! You knew full well none of us could come to any agreement which is why you seemed to give us this responsibility. Bah! He’s having fun at our expense, can’t you all see this?”
“Lord Kanzet,” Vosgaris finally stirred and stood. “His reasons may be underhand but you had the chance to come up with a policy and it’s slipped through your fingers. Don’t go blaming the ruling House for your inability to make an effective decision. I myself can’t get involved as I am also a military commander, so I shall abstain from any vote.”
“You’re in the Koros’ pockets anyway, Taboz, so we would be wasting our time trying to secure it.”
“For what purpose, Kanzet?” Vosgaris asked, his hands out wide. “Surely it’s a straight forward issue here. What to do against Venn? What’s difficult in coming to a united policy against them? You’re talking as if there needs to be a vote made against the Koros, which in wartime is a very dangerous course to take. Are you seriously asking for support in a policy against the ruling House during wartime?”
Kanzet stood with his face staining red. “No, of course not! And don’t try to make me out to be a damned traitor, either.”
Vosgaris shrugged and looked at the others. “Then I fail to see what the problem could possibly be. Shall we have a suggestion or two and discuss them? Be a Council, no
t a bunch of squabbling children.”
“How dare you insult us so, Taboz!” another lord stood up, indignantly.
“If you think I have insulted you, then challenge me here and now. I’ve already cut down one of your kind who challenged me, a few years ago remember? Another one will make little difference to my conscience.”
The nobleman paled. Memories of one of the Fokis clan dying at Vosgaris’ hand in Kastan City was vividly in his mind. He sat down unsteadily. Vosgaris grunted and sat, too.
Lord Ebrel Kanzet was not pleased, however. “Yes I recall your slaying of Cledin Fokis. That cost your family a lot of support; if you do that again you may well find your House loses any remaining allies.”
“So you mean I would not count on any help from any of you?”
“That is very likely; think carefully about your next few words.”
Vosgaris pursed his lips. “I have; frankly I’m tired of your petty squabbling. If I can’t rely on any of your assistance then at least I know where I stand. It probably strengthens my position in fact. Go away, Kanzet; your family have done no good to the empire in the past, and I can’t see that changing under your misguided leadership.”
Kanzet sucked his breath in through his teeth indignantly. “How dare you! I outrank you socially, Taboz! Show some respect!”
“Respect is earned, Kanzet, not automatically bestowed. It is the man who honours the position, not the other way round.” Vosgaris looked the furious lord in the eye. “What I have learned in serving the Koros here,” he indicated the three at the end of the table, “is that they are doing their best to save our empire, despite some of you people here today. Yes, they make mistakes, and don’t we all? But our failing as the Council is to automatically seek to oppose everything they attempt, whether it be for the benefit of Kastania or not. It is this dogmatic stupid attitude I despise and earns nothing but contempt from everyone outside this Council. You may strut about full of self-importance just because you are nobles on the Council, but it means nothing if you cannot even formulate a proper defence policy to combat our enemies who are waging war upon us. In all honesty, if you cannot even come to do that then you are not fit to be here.”